Subterranean Corridor, Bunker Sector B. 00:10 AM.
The atmosphere within the labyrinthine halls of Bunker Sector B no longer merely carried the humid scent of superheated steam; it had been replaced by a thick, cloying aroma of copper—the unmistakable smell of vaporized human blood. Under the flickering, rhythmic pulse of the crimson emergency lights, Rianor Sudrath stood like a silent wraith. His left hand was encased in the Mana-Glove Prototype, a device that hummed with a violent, unstable scarlet radiance. The high-frequency whine emanating from the glove was so sharp it felt like a needle piercing the eardrums of everyone present.
Yaeger, the iron-clad giant of the Iron Empire, struggled to rise from a mountain of concrete debris. His steam-powered plate armor hissed sporadically, venting thick plumes of black, acrid smoke from twisted, glowing copper pipes.
